


snapping the bones of your heart like twigs

by schlimmbesserung



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mind Games, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlimmbesserung/pseuds/schlimmbesserung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You stop short and stare at him (expectantly) as his lips curl up over razor teeth, thin locks of hair sticking to his face paint, eyes dismally dark. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.</p><p>“Got a motherfucking light?” he asks and he reaches his hand out to you a little, spindly fingers splayed like a trap.  You don’t trust yourself not to take it because you’d give anything just to touch him right now. It’s terrifying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	snapping the bones of your heart like twigs

**Author's Note:**

> characterization how do  
> for those of you who don't know, a zippo is a metal lighter that flips open and closed

You spend most of your life dreaming.  
  
Dreaming about the smell of coffee and the thick feel of peanut butter stuck adamantly to the roof of your mouth. Dreaming about the chime of doorbells and the buzz of indistinguishable conversation, words and voices blending together in the low gurgle of boiling water and wisps of steam. Dreaming about dusty windows, hairline cracks spider webbing through concrete, letters twisted and warped and sprayed haphazardly in bright colors, splashed out like ( _blood, tears_ ) miracles across grimy brick walls. Dreaming about stardust and fairies and flying, falling, crashing with a crunch and a snap ( _it hurts_ ). Dreaming about stuttering and swelling and reaching out ( _pulling back_ ). Loving and losing and  _living_. Dreaming about tangled curls and thin, sharp fingers and eyes deep blue-indigo.  
  
You’re dreaming all the time and you just want it to stop, please ( _don’t go_ ).  
  
-  
  
The first time you encounter him you're on your way to work. It’s summertime and the tang of smog is hot in the back of your throat, sunlight sharp on your eyes and heat rolling off of the pavement in lazy waves. There’s a shady spot tucked in the crevice between Sam’s Liquor Outlet and the skeleton of an old Blockbuster. There he stands, leaning low against the wall like his spine melded into the stained cement years ago. His hair is a rat’s nest of greasy black ringlets and a hand rolled cigarette hangs loosely between his lips. His head lifts marginally as you approach, movements sluggish, like a man more dead than alive.  
  
“Hey my tiny brother, got a mother _fucking_  light?” he asks with a jagged grin, voice breathy and rough, hands pushed further into his pockets.  
  
“Uh, I don’t smoke,” you reply softly, passing him briskly. He chuckles and keeps slouching lower down the wall, and your shoulders tense and you keep walking. You hear the faint  _click clack hiss_ of a Zippo just as you round the corner.  
  
-  
  
You are meticulously arranging donuts around the little spinning display on the counter while Sollux and Aradia bicker from across the room.  
  
“Theriouthly, AA, the latht thing I want to do on my day off ith go frolick through the themetary jutht to watch you fawn over a bunch of boring heapth of rock with dead peopleth nameth carved into them,” he says hotly, brow furrowed, wiping down a table with just a little too much vigor.  
  
“Oh, but it’ll be fun!” she insists with a warm smile, undeterred by his anger. It’s really not so much them bickering as it is Sollux stubbornly prolonging the inevitable. She clasps her hands together pleadingly, “It’s so nice there this time of year."  
  
“Why can’t you go have your picnicth at thentral park like a normal perthon?” Sollux asks with a long suffering sigh. He stands straight and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Fine, whatever. But promithe me no impulthive dethecrathion of mautholeumth thith time.”  
  
“ _Please_ , Sollux, that’s only happened three times now. You’ve really got to learn to live and let die,” she says matter-of-factly, ignoring his muttered  _but we’ve only_ been _three timeth_  and turning to you. “Tavros, you should come, too. There’s a pretty lake, and the willow trees are just beautiful! It'll be fun.”  
  
You smile and nod. They’re so predictable.  
  
(Sollux only flips his shit for a couple of minutes when Aradia decapitates a monumental statue to take home as a souvenir. You can’t help but laugh.)

-  
  
“Got a motherfucking  _light_ , little jumpy brother?” the gravelly voice echoes in the empty street and you nearly leap out of your skin. He’s standing before ( _looming over_ ) you again, slouched down like his bones are just bent that way.  
  
It’s late in the night, dark. A car  _wooshes_  past and the beam of headlights illuminate him briefly.  You catch a glimpse of deep indigo behind black bangs, face smeared with gray and white. You should be frightened. “I, uh, I don’t smoke.”  
  
His lips twist into a grin ( _snarl_ ), head bobbing to himself as if in agreement.  _Click clack hiss_  cuts the silence as he cups one hand over the cigarette and lights it with his own Zippo. The air is sharp with a pungent, rotten odor. The tip smolders bright candy red in the darkness.  
  
You turn on your heel and all but run away.  
  
-  
  
“Hey, TV, get your thhit together man,” Sollux chides irritably.  
  
You flinch slightly, jerking away from the cool linoleum countertop, back straightening and shoulders squaring. You had certainly not been thinking about tangled curls, ripped jeans, loose lips and--( _liar_ ).  
  
Sollux gives you a  _look_ , mouth set in a frown. Annoyance just bordering on concern, “Athh-hole at table three wantth a grande caffe mocha, no thugar, no whipped cream, exthtra dry, with half thkim, half full milk.”  
  
Your brow furrows in an unspoken quaestion as you rapidly scribble down the order.  
  
Sollux shakes his head, reiterating, “No, the dickweed doethn't want two perthent milk, thingth jutht can’t be that thimple. He thpethifically wantth a mixthture of both. And rathpberry thyrup, mixthed with the milk,  _then_  the coffee. I know right? Make thure you thpit in it too tho he never cometh back and maketh an outrageouth order like that again.”  
  
You politely refuse to salivate in a customer’s coffee, but you get the feeling that Sollux might anyway.  
  
-  
  
The strip mall is old and half empty, like a lot of things this side of town. The walls are all stained with brown rain run off trails, pocketed with hollowed windows looking in on dust and vacancy. You walk past graffiti smattered by-ways, tin cans toppled over, rubbish strung out, soggy and glistening like pulled intestines. Aradia has paused to snap a few quick shots of a desolate alley on her Polaroid camera. Sollux is being very vocal in his impatience.  
  
“Got a motherfucking light, my  _miracle_  brother?” is breathed hot over the back of your neck and cold fingers curl around your arm. You glance up into pools of blue indigo, cracked lips pulled back over sharp white teeth and you swallow down a scream.  
  
“I, I don’t smoke,” you reply again, clipped with annoyance ( _fear_ ). His snaggletoothed smirk spreads ( _splits_ ) wider, eyebrows raising up and disappearing behind knotted curls. Like it’s all so funny, scaring you out of your wits. His fingers trail absently up your arm and shivers roll down your spine.  
  
“Tavros, come on! We’re going now,” Aradia calls and in an instant the sensation is gone. You walk ( _stumble_ ) to catch up with them, checking over your shoulder and finding nothing but a stretch of empty road.  
  
-

  
AT: sO, wHAT DO YOU THINK, }:(  
AA: i think  
AA: there is definitely some potential of him being a certified stalker  
AT: uGH,  
AA: why didnt you tell us sooner?  
AT: i WASN'T SURE,  
AT: i DIDN'T WANT TO MAKE A BIG DEAL OVER A SITUATION,  
AT: tHAT WAS PROBABLY ACTUALLY NOTHING TO BE CONCERNED OVER,  
AT: bUT, uHH,  
AT: nOW I'M KIND OF BEGINNING TO THINK THAT IT IS CERTAINLY A THING, tHAT SHOULD PROBABLY BE CONCERNING,  
AT: pOSSIBLY, iN MORE WAYS THAN ONE,  
AA: well  
AA: if youre worried then you should change the route you take to and from work  
AA: and sollux or i could start meeting up with you on the way if you would like?  
AA: if the problem still continues you can attempt to get the police involved  
AA: but i’ve heard the authorities are really bad about stalking complaints  
AA: tavros?  
AT: uHHHH,  
AT: i’M NOT SURE,  
AA: not sure of what?  
AT: tHAT I WANT TO DO, aNY OF THAT,  
AT: eSPECIALLY THE LAST PART, iN PARTICULAR, wITH THE POLICE,  
AA: what else can you do?  
AA: the issue isnt just going to go away on its own  
AA: if you want this potentially dangerous man to stop following you around you have to follow the proper procedures!  
AT: uMM,  
AA: wait  
AA: youre not saying?  
AT: uH,  
AA: do you?  
AA: do you actually want him to stop following you?  
AT: i,,,,,  
  
adiosToreador [AT] ceased pestering apocalypseArisen [AA]  


-  
  
You walk ( _totter_ ) into the café with his voice still ringing in your ears, a little out of breath and a little flushed. Sollux and Aradia, in unison, toss you the most knowing and disapproving of all glares in the history of forever.  
  
You shy away a little, hunch your shoulders in that turtle-like way you do, and give them a helpless, nervous smile and half-hearted wave. Sollux shakes his head and tosses you your apron. Aradia asks if you’re feeling okay today and offers you a muffin. You know they’re just worried. They have every right to be.  
  
-  
  
You tell yourself you’re being paranoid ( _wishful_ ) when you think you see a towering shadow lurking outside of your window.  
  
The night is humid and your pajama pants stick to your skin with sweat. You squirm under the sheets and imagine black indigo eyes sucking you in, chapped lips brushing the hollow of your neck, grazing teeth and chuckles vibrating down into your bones. You imagine that your own hands are his, frigid fingers skimming ( _ghosting_ ) over your chest and hips and thighs and-- and you-- you desperately ( _don’t shouldn’t maybe_ ) want him to be  **real.**  
  
-  
  
You stop short and stare at him ( _expectantly_ ) as his lips curl up over razor teeth, thin locks of hair sticking to his face paint, eyes dismally dark. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.  
  
“Got a  _mother_ fucking light?” he asks and he reaches his hand out to you a little, spindly fingers splayed like a trap.  You don’t trust yourself not to take it because you’d give anything just to touch him right now. It’s  _terrifying._  
  
You fix your eyes resolutely on the ground, counting the cracks in the concrete and pretending you’re not losing your mind as you push past him.  
  
-  
  
You’re burnt out, jumbled up, falling all to pieces. He's wormed his way under your skin, burrowed into your brain and made a home for himself there. You see him at every corner and his voice whispers in the back of your mind ( _got a motherfucking light_ ). The bags under your eyes grow more predominate with each passing day. You’re scared, but you don’t know if it’s of him or yourself.  
  
“TV,” Sollux corners you as you’re putting the dishes away, his voice stern with an undercurrent of  _why are you doing this to yourself let us help you please._ You want to scream ( _cry_ ). “Me and AA are going out for frozthen yogurt tomorrow. You thhould come.”  
  
Your throat clenches tight with exhaustion, because you know a call for a ceasefire when you see it and you know it’s time. You know you can’t keep this up forever, “Yeah, I should. You’re right, I should.”  
  
You take Aradia’s advice and walk a different path to work.  
  
-  
  
A foggy ( _polluted_ ) morning shortly after, you’re walking under an overpass on your ( _new_ ) way to work and he’s there and, honestly, you didn’t expect him not to be.  _Click clack click clack_  ricochets off the walls, broken glass and cigarette butts grinding under your feet.  
  
“Got a motherfucking light, my righteous  _brother_?” he smirks at you crookedly, flicking his Zippo and slouching low.  
  
“Stop it,” you say, trying to sound firm. It comes out shaky and weak and pitiful. You’ve never had the strongest willpower.  
  
He quirks an eyebrow at that as if he’s genuinely puzzled. Then he’s taking a slow step forward, and another, and another. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest and every fiber of your being is screeching at you to  _run away oh my god_  as you let him back you into the wall. He slides his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up, leaning down, down until his nose is softly brushing yours. He smells like spice and drugs and kerosene. Your head reels and you just want him to ( _never_ ) stop touching you.  
  
You blink and you’re afraid to open your eyes again. When he speaks the words fan out over your lips, deep and husky and your knees go weak, insides quivering sickly, “The only thing that’s gonna hurt you is that motherfucking head noise what you let get all to twisting you up in knots.”  
  
“Please,” you whisper. You’re not entirely sure what it is you're asking for.  
  
He stays still for several ( _excruciating_ ) seconds, unnatural, statuesque and hovering a mere breadth’s width apart. Then he pulls back, sneakers skidding softly as he retreats. You don’t even open your eyes. You duck away and abscond the hell out of there as fast as you can on wobbly legs. You don’t dare look back; if you do, you might just turn to dust and get swept away.  
  
-  
  
Things get better ( _worse_ ) after that. The stranger disappears without a trace. No more late night encounters,  no more fear, no more crooked grins or tangled curls.The summer drags on and the man fades into a dream, the kind that you only remember in blurry snatches upon waking, no matter how hard you try to hold on. Not that you try ( _but you do_ ). You pass the time redecorating the café and Sollux has difficulty hiding his approval of the new, cheery bumblebee tablecloth. Aradia was the one who picked it out and, even though neither of you tell him, he probably knows.

  
-  
  
Six weeks, three days, ten hours, forty eight minutes, and twenty four ( _twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven_ ) seconds since the last time you saw him, but you definitely aren’t counting.  
  
A customer asks Sollux for a light and you mumble a mechanical “I don’t smoke” under your breath, feeling not quite like yourself.  
  
-  
  
“Tavros, we’re going to see Lovely Molly tonight!” Aradia announces excitedly as you close up shop. Behind her, Sollux pointedly rolls his eyes, though the gesture is a little lost behind his red-blue glasses. “Would you like to come with us?”  
  
“Uh, which one is that again?” you ask.  
  
“It’s--"  
  
“The one with the pthychotic newlywed on heroine who goeth to thome creepy old farmhouthe and probably dieth an exthcruthiating death,” Sollux interjects dryly, not acknowledging the sour look she shoots him.  
  
You give a sheepish sort of half shrug, “I think, I’ll pass. I’m not really all that great with horror movies.”  
  
They blink at you then glance unsurely at each other, like they’d never actually planned on the possibility of going with just the two of them. Well, good, you think. It won’t kill them to go on an actual date for once.  
  
You’re almost jealous of what they have.  
  
-  
  
It’s autumn now and the night is freezing cold, the air so frigid it almost hurts to breathe. Your face is red and numb and you don’t even know what you’re doing any more, you just want to  _see_  him.  
  
You don't have to look very far. He’s hunched over on the curb beneath a shot out street lamp, three blocks from your apartment, the ember glow of a hand rolled cigarette hanging limply from his lips. You find ( _catch_ ) yourself wondering if he's been this close all along, if he's still been watching you, and hoping rather deliriously that he has.  
  
 _Click clack click clack_. He turns to look up at you, a lazy grin crawling across his face. You stare at each other.  
  
“What is this?” you manage to choke out with a vague gesture to the space between you and him, breath steaming into the air in cloudy wisps.  
  
His shoulders roll in a shrug, “Looks to me like a miracle in the making, if you all up and let it happen.”  
  
“Nothing about this, even makes any sense,” you swallow hard, but the lump at the base of your throat doesn't budge.  
  
“Anything what’s worth being something doesn't,” he says easily and you  _know_  you’re insane now because you  _believe_  him.  
  
"Are you going to kill me?"  
  
He laughs and you smile nervously.  
  
“Uh, what,” you pause, trying to collect your thoughts. “What’s your name?”  
  
"Gamzee,” he replies, smooth and drawn out. He heaves himself to his feet, uncoiling like a snake. Your breath hitches.  
  
“Tavros,” you offer in turn.  
  
“Got a motherfucking light, Tav _bro_ ,” he says it like a statement this time, because he already knows your answer and he has this look on his face like he's just  _waiting_  for you to say it.  
  
So you do, “I don’t smoke.”  
  
“Well,” he leans forward with a toothy, lopsided grin, and you see your own fear and uncertainty reflected in his indigo eyes. “Maybe you should start.”  
  
Something in your chest swells, tight and painful. Slowly, you reach out to him, palm open. Your fingers are trembling. Your voice crackles like thin ice, but there's a certain sense of challenge in your words, “Maybe I will.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence, and you both stand stark. He’s snapping the bones of your heart like twigs. You wonder if this is what waking up feels like.  
  
His fingers twine with yours and he never lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> aka that one time gamzee stalked tavros for several months just to deliver a pick up line
> 
> i was going for a sober!gamz feel but gave up half through /lazy cry


End file.
